


Strain

by anonymousgratification



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousgratification/pseuds/anonymousgratification
Summary: There's something else; something imminent festering.





	Strain

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I always write Damian desperately pining, and I wanted to view it from a different perspective.  
> I intended to write this for practice, as I'm not very comfortable with sequenced writing. So, I really hope that this flows adequately.
> 
> (Also, Damian is referred to as a teenager in this, but in my head he's supposed to be around 19/or something. I mostly used it as a reference for Dick, because considering he's definitely not a teenager, it freaks him out a bit.)
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> ❅  
>   
>   
> 

The manor is dark, and Dick makes his way through the house on memory. He flips on the light in the living space and startles as the outline of a person comes into view on the couch. 

Damian’s curled up over the length of it. He’s on his side, laying over his arm. His cat is sprawled out in front of him. 

Dick’s initial feeling is a radiant one; glad that he feels safe enough to fall asleep out in the living space; glad that he can do something mundane like pass out on the couch with his cat. 

He walks over, cautiously sitting on the cushion next to him.

Time slows, and he’s trapped in it watching Damian breathe and every so often fidget. These little, normal pieces of him fascinate Dick, because it’s so raw and undisclosed, and he can’t help but admire learning things like that he rubs his feet together and his head into the cushion while his sleeps. 

He makes a tiny noise, shifting, and Dick watches his cats paw twitch; thinking that maybe they’re not that different. He suppresses a giggle; supposing that Damian is just like a kitten; vicious and feral but when further inspected, sweet and tender. 

Dick carefully reaches over pet his hair, slowly combing his fingers through it. 

He feels delighted— pleased that Damian that no longer has to lay in a position preparing for attack; no longer has knifes under his sleeves and instincts to kill whenever someone gets too close without permission. 

The cat stretches and sits up, and Dick hurriedly grabs him before he can disturb Damian, not wanting to wake him.

The cat circles onto his legs, laying down. Dick runs his fingers through the fur, and his eyes are on Damian again; thinking that he could watch him for the rest of his life. 

The cat suddenly stirs, jumping up and progressing toward Damian. He lunges at his head and Damian opens an eye. 

“Nn?” He groans and rubs his eyes, looking up at the cat standing above his face. “Hello,” he picks up his cat and holds him over his head, squinting at him. “What do you require?” he slurs, his voice raspy from his slumber.

He lays back down in his original spot, cradling the animal against his chest. He closes his eyes, then peeks one open again, spotting Dick; confirming his suspicion.

“Grayson…” his voice is weary, embarrassed. “How long have you been there?”

“You mean, did I see you being cute with the cat? The answer is yes.”

“I was _not_ being cute.”

“You so were. Thank you for letting me see that.”

“I didn’t let you see anything. You just happened to be creeping on me while I’m asleep.”

Dick shuts up at that. He knows it’s Damian’s normal jibing; his normal caustic nature, but he feels weird; like maybe he _is_ being creepy. He couldn’t help but watch him sleep, and doesn’t exactly know how to define the thoughts in his head and the feelings coursing throughout him.

Damian yanks him out of his thoughts, moving over and slumping into him. He leans his head into his shoulder, grabbing his sleeve.

“Grayson.”

“Hm?”

“I am very tired,” he mumbles, his eyes shutting. 

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Right now,” he sleepily answers. Dick smiles; can’t help but adore his drowsy muttering.

“I meant before now.”

“Don’t know.” He pauses, and they sit in silence for a moment. “Grayson.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t tell anyone I talk to the cat.”

Dick laughs, a genuine one; a soft gooey feeling in his heart. He still can’t believe, after all these years, that this is the person who extracts this vast affection from deep inside him. 

 

* * *

 

The next time he sees Damian, it's a few days later and patrol was rough. Dick’s investigating in the cave, going through files and backgrounds; looking for a correlation. Things are tangled up in the worst type of way.

Dick’s about to retire for the night, or at least leave to clear his mind, when he hears Damian and Bruce enter, angry voices back and forth. 

Dick remembers _this_. It happened to all of them. It’s time for Damian to outgrow Robin and create his own set of rules; his own life. 

He continues up the stairs, drowning out the raised voices as he enters the house. 

 

In the morning, he rises early and Damian’s down in the cave training. His movements are sloppy and imprecise, and he’s dewy as if he’s been at it for hours. 

“Damian?” Dick moves closer, standing a few feet behind him, far enough away that he doesn’t get hit. 

“Busy.” He doesn’t stop as he answers. Dick watches the shifting of his body; anger and desperateness bleeding out of his motions. He doesn’t know why he finds this part of him endearing, too. 

“Damian,” he tries again. “Have you been at it all night?” Dick asks, ignoring all the other questions running through his mind. 

“What’s it to you?” Damian glares at him, abandoning his movement. 

“Because I care about you?” he contends. “What happened?”

“Nothing in particular.” 

Dick grabs his hands, sees the blood and bruising, verifying the answer to his question. Damian shies away, taking a step back. 

“It’s none of your concern,” he insists, and his words are scorching, but his eyes are hotter.

“You’re my concern,” Dick reasons. Damian gives a look, like he’s surprised at his inability to be deterredby him. “Come on, Dami. Don’t shut me out.” 

“I am just… working through something.”

“Like this?” Damian doesn’t answer, staring blankly at him. “Did something happen?”

It’s feels like a loaded question, to him. Did something happen? Has life just been a series of _something happening_ and he can’t get away?

Damian bites his cheek, meeting Dick’s eyes. He has a lot of things he wants to say, to admit to him, but he cannot compose a proficient amalgamation of words.

“I am uncertain.”

“Uncertain?”

Damian hesitates. He comes up with sentences in his head that sound all wrong. 

“Perhaps it is normal,” he oscillates, his thoughts swiveling. “My future is indefinite. I assume this occurred with you as well.” Dick knows there is a _but_ , and waits for it. 

“But, I have—had expectations. I have always been working toward a goal; a pending denouement.” He sighs; ashamed at his previous life which was not a choice, but an oppression. 

“I do not know what it is I am working toward anymore. I suppose… it’s unnerving.”

“That’s ok. You may not realize it, because it is a bit daunting right now, but there are countless options for you. You can create any life you want.”

“I know, but I am concerned…” he breathes, meeting Dick’s eyes. There is a faintly vulnerable look in them. “Concerned that I have only restrained myself under my father’s guidance, and without it I do not know how I will handle… specific parts of my being.”

“You’ll figure it out. I did. I don’t have the same approach as him, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Just different.”

Damian stares at him, a little bit of disbelief slicing through him. After all this time, he still doesn’t trust himself completely.

“Father doesn’t…” he huffs. “I don’t think he wants to work together anymore.”

“Did he say that?” Dick asks, but with Bruce it’s all about implications. “Why do you think that?”

“He seems… annoyed. Distant,” Damian stops, thinking. "He saw our working together as temporary. He always did. And I understand. I do not want to be his partner forever, but…”

“You wanted it to be up to you?” Damian’s quiet for a minute, then looks away. Dick takes it as a yes.

“It is childish. I do not mean to demean your time together with him, nor anyone else. I just thought…” He looks like he has to force it out. “I thought it would be different, because I’m actually his…” he drifts off again, looking embarrassed.

“I get it.” He reaches up and brushes Damian’s hair out of his face. “When I became Robin, I thought I would be the only one. I thought I was special.” He pauses. “But, that’s not what it’s about. I know he goes on and on about it, but all he really cares about is saving people. Helping them. The fact he thinks you are ready to be alone means he trusts you and believes you are capable.”

“I know,” he says. “I _will_ be fine without him,” Damian asserts, deciding. 

“What about me?” He doesn’t know why he says it, doesn’t know why he wants to push Damian to the brink, until he’s sharing things he never would otherwise.

Damian looks awkward all the sudden, like he walked into a place he’s never seen before and cannot find the exit.

“You’re not father.” _You actually want me_ , his inner voice whispers, and he shuts it up. He knows it’s not true, but he cannot so easily annihilate the insecurity. He has been trying for years. 

“Is that your subtle way of saying you need me around?”

“I said no such thing.” He turns away, and Dick smiles. 

“Seriously, Damian.” He extends his arm to grab Damian’s hand and tangles their fingers together. “The fact that you are here, with me, that’s enough. You have time. And choices.”

He lifts their hands, unfastening their fingers and leaning down to kiss the discoloration on his knuckles. 

Damian gapes at him, ignoring the way his face burns.

“If it’s any consolation, I will be by your side. Forever.”

Neither of them know— neither of them have a name for this colossal feeling that links them together. 

 

* * *

 

Dick holds Damian down on the mats, his hands holding his wrists down by the sides of his head.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Dick's eyes flicker over his face, like he’s reading invisible words there. His gaze travels to his eyes, then his nose, then lingers on his mouth for much longer than he looked everywhere else.

Damian looks up at him— wondering if this is the beginning of those dreams he has; when Dick holds him down and he wakes up sticky and alone.

Dick doesn’t move, just keeps him there, and Damian feels hot. He’s sweaty from training, but this is a different kind; one from deep within that’s hard to extinguish.

Damian peers into his eyes, trying to determine what’s shining there; what the meaning is behind his lack of movement.

Damian shoves at him, catching Dick off guard enough to push them over, and he’s above Dick in an instant, holding his arms down like he was to him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he snidely repeats back at him, his mouth turning up.

“Not bad,” Dick exhales, and Damian can feel the movement of his body underneath him as he breathes.

Dick twists his wrists and gets his hands around Damian’s, lifting them as he sits up. He lets go of his hands and Damian lets them fall to the side, focusing solely on the shifting of his body. 

Damian notices he’s sitting on his lap, and he resists the urge to do a lot of things— to grind his hips, to touch Dick’s face, to lean in and see what his mouth feels like.

Dick grabs him, sliding his hands around his waist, and Damian thinks for a second he’s going to do something inane like hug him, but his fingers just lightly touch him through his clothes. Dick gently traces his ribs, his hands stilling.

“Damian,” he says, and it sounds like a whisper. “I’m glad you trust me so much,” he admits, honored that Damian gave him this silent sort of permission. Dick lowers his hands, tries not to revel in it; tries not to enjoy it so much as he grasps the side of his thighs, his hands feeling the sturdy weight. “But, you just left yourself open.”

Damian wants to speak, say something that turns the moment into a normal interaction, not whatever this is; where it’s like there’s a thread connecting them that Dick keeps tugging and Damian can’t get control of.

Dick grabs him hard, and maybe he’s angry, all the things he’s thinking when Damian’s this close. He lifts him and spins him around, pushing his face into the mats. He plants his knee in the middle of Damian’s back, shoving his shoulders down. “You’re getting distracted.”

_Obviously._ Dick’s above him and he smells good somehow, like sweat and something distinctly him. He’s touching him—and even though it’s a simulated fight, Dick’s hands are gentle, and they’re strong and—

Damian grunts, or maybe it’s a moan— he feels tingly everywhere Dick’s hands have been, and it’s very challenging to concentrate on anything else but the specific way he moved him.

“You never grew too much,” he twitters. “You’re too small to hold me down like that.”

Damian grits his teeth. Dick doesn’t ever  _shut up_ , and he’s trying stop his mind from reeling over thoughts of him.

“Break the hold,” Dick instructs. “Come on.”

Damian squirms; hastily searches for an exit. He twists his arms and reaches back to grab Dick’s wrists on his shoulders, and in one fluid move, twists his body to slide out from under him; flipping Dick over.

He hits the ground with a thud and a gasp, and Damian puts his knee on one of his arms, grabbing the other one. He stares down at Dick; their heads upside down, opposite from each other.

“You’re heavy,” Damian mutters, watching as Dick’s eyes flutter shut, chortling as he stares back at him.

“But you still managed.” Dick turns his body to the side and swings the lower half toward Damian, and Damian fights him, letting go of his arm and grabbing the other one. Dick attempts to hit him, and Damian shifts away, sitting up to evade his attack. Dick follows and they wrestle around on the floor. Dick traps him again, positioned above him. 

Dick’s hands plant on the ground by each side of his body. He hovers over him, looking into Damian’s eyes; and its fire and fire inflaming one another.

Dick tilts away, then Damian swears he moves closer again, because he can feel Dick’s panting against his lips.

“Good job,” he says, right over his mouth, and the words sound like they are replacing the real ones behind his teeth. Damian thinks— hopes he’s going to lean in just a little bit closer, so he can taste whatever is hiding there.

Dick bites his lower lip, and Damian’s completely fixated on the sight of Dick’s teeth digging into the pinkness.

Dick’s abruptly gone, and he takes a step back once he’s to his feet. Damian takes a second to recover from Dick’s enchantment, following him to his feet a moment later.

Their eyes are on each other again, and it’s intense and cutting through everything else. The sound of their breathing is the only thing making up the space around them.

Alfred’s voice penetrates through the silence, and Damian can’t hear what he’s saying, distracted as Dick lifts his shirt to wipe away the sweat on his face.

He doesn’t look— doesn’t watch as his muscles come into view— doesn’t think about the trail of hair leading down his pants— doesn’t imagine running his tongue along the sweat building up under his shirt.

He doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on Alfred, attempting to follow his words. 

 

* * *

 

Dick gasps, waking at the feeling of a presence looming above him. 

“Why are you in my bed?” He hears the bratty voice and instantly remembers. He was waiting for Damian and must’ve fallen asleep.

His eyes start to make out shapes in the dark, and they focus on Damian’s face above him. “Sorry, Dami. I was—” he stops talking, gaping at Damian, suddenly becoming painfully aware of the position he’s in. 

Damian's shirtless, and Dick stares at his skin as his vision sharpens. There’s a few drops of water on his chest, one running down his collar bone and onto the bed next to him. Damian’s positioned in such a way so one of his knees is on each side of his body, but he’s shifted his weight so he’s not directly on top of him. His hand is on the bed, just inches away from Dick’s neck. He’s close. 

_Too close._

Damian stares down at him, waiting for an answer. One eyebrow is raised, suspiciously.

“Why are you wet?” comes out instead of what Dick wanted to say. Instead of finishing what he  _was_ saying.

“You’re in my bed,” Damian states, not answering either. Dick attempts sitting up, but Damian doesn’t make any effort to do the same, so they’re just a bit closer, Dick resting on his elbows.

“I was waiting for you. I guess I fell asleep.” Damian accepts his answer, huffing and standing up. Dick’s eyes follow Damian as he walks to the closet.

He realizes Damian’s not just shirtless, but he also has no pants on. All he’s wearing is a pair of briefs, and Dick tries extremely hard not to stare. He’s glad he didn’t notice while Damian was on top of him— might’ve been tempted to do something stupid like wrap his hands around his legs, or flip him over and stroke all areas he’s never seen before.

Damian starts talking, and Dick tells himself that’s the only reason he’s looking. He pushes his hands into his his eyes; thinking that it will make the image of Damian—close to naked, alone with him— go away.

“Why were you waiting for me?” Damian slides a shirt on. Dick tries not to be disappointed; hates himself for wishing he could look at his bare skin a little longer.

“Uh…” Dick tries to organize his thoughts, watching Damian pull some pants over his legs. “I wanted to see you?” 

Damian raises an eyebrow, not willing to ignore the tone of Dick’s voice. “I wanted to see you,” he confirms. “Wanted to hang out, or whatever.” Dick lays back down, his eyes planting on the ceiling.

“Oh.” Dick can’t see him anymore, but he guesses where he is in the room based on the volume of his voice.

“Where were you?” He turns to his side, searching for Damian. He finds him walking out of the bathroom, fully dressed now.

“Patrol.” Damian stops in front of his desk, fiddling with something. “I took a shower,” Damian responds to Dick’s earlier question—  _why are you wet?_  Dick cringes, remembering. Now that he’s more awake, he wants to laugh and ridicule himself for his question; for the way it came out.

Dick hums, not sure he trusts himself with words anymore.

“Why weren’t you out tonight?”

“I’m taking a break. Resting. You should try it.” Damian makes a noise.

“I didn’t see you. I assumed I was alone.” He wrinkles his nose. “I could’ve…” he drifts off. Dick stares at him, knowing Damian feels worried about what he could’ve done; that he still gets nervous about that instinctual part of himself.

“But you didn’t,” Dick smiles. “Besides, I could’ve taken you.”

Damian looks cute like this, sort of apprehensive. His words, though, less cute. “Don’t come in my room without me.”

“Why? Have secret stuff you don’t want me seeing?” Damian’s eyes widen a bit, then he scoffs. Dick thinks maybe he’s right. He wants to ask; wants to _know_ , just what Damian could be potentially uncomfortable about.

“No,” his voice is bland, a little austere. “Aren’t you too  _old_ to sneak around, going through peoples things?”

“Ouch, Dami. You know I’m sensitive,” he quips. “Besides, isn’t that technically what we do  _all the time_?”

“ _Gathering information_  is hardly the same as you breaking in to my room while I’m out.”

“I didn’t break in,” he coyly smiles. “The door was unlocked.”

“Hmph,” Damian ignores him, grabbing the bottle of water on his desk. He twists it open, holding the lid as he brings it to his mouth. Dick swears Damian’s doing it on purpose, or that Damian has some special powers that make drinking water look alluring. Dick can’t stop watching his mouth.  _That bottle is so lucky,_ he thinks, then hate himself for it. It’s just a _bottle._ And Damian’s a  _teenager._

Damian places the bottle back on the surface and stands in front of the bed, glaring at him.

“What?” Damian asks.

“What?” Dick asks back.

“You’re staring.” Damian crosses his arms. “And  _still_ in  _my_ bed.”

“So? Is that a  _problem_?”

“I wish to use it.” His indication is obvious. Dick doesn’t move, though; doesn’t want to. He pats the space next to him. Damian’s glare turns into a scowl.

“Get out,” Damian bites, annoyed now. “If you wish to ‘ _see me_ ’, you can do it tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep in here?” Dick doesn’t even consider getting up.

“I’d prefer you not.”

“I’ll make room.” He shifts on the bed.

“No,” he demands, defiant as ever. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with anyone before?” Dick goads. “Or can you just not sleep in such  _unacceptable conditions_?”

Damian is expressionless, but then he looks slightly embarrassed. He averts his gaze, speaking rushed. “I was trained to sleep in a variety of environments.”

“Then it’s no big deal.”

Damian opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, then he closes it. After a few seconds, he does speak, and his voice is a violent hiss.

“There’s not enough room,” Damian argues, _needing_  Dick to accept that as his answer.

“We can snuggle.” 

“That makes me want it less.”

“Less?” Dick sniggers. “So you do want to, just a little?”

“Shut up,” Damian puts a knee on the bed, crawling onto it. “I don’t want it at all.” He lays down. “I’m too tired for your annoying arguments.”

“That’s ok, too.” Dick smiles. Damian turns on his side, facing him, closing his eyes. 

Dick reaches up and strokes Damian’s hair, his thumb brushing his cheek. Damian’s allows it; because Dick knows he’s not asleep just yet. It’s possible he’s too tired to care, but Dick wants to imagine that Damian’s ok with his touch.

He removes his hand, then closes his eyes, too.

 

Dick forgets where he is in the morning. His eyes flutter open and and there’s a body beside him.

Right. Damian.

Dick stares at the features of his face, calm with sleep. Damian’s eyelashes are thick and pretty, and his mouth is parted, and even in darkened room, his lips look perfectly plump and soft.

Dick stares at him, entranced by the up and down movement of his chest. 

Damian makes a little noise, almost like a purr, and Dick feels his body flush. Damian stirs and Dick thinks he’s going to wake up, but he turns to his side, curling up against Dick’s body, pushing toward him.

It’s a wholesome action, and Dick feels he is too dirty; polluting the air with his depraved desires to do things he shouldn’t want to.

He leans down, kissing him on the head. He strokes his hair— _forgive me_.

He leaves; drives all the way back to his apartment without saying anything to anyone.

He goes straight to bed when he gets home. 

Damian’s under his skin. 

Damian’s damaged, severed at places that might never stitch back together. He’s precarious and grim, but Dick loves that part of him; loves it like he’s out of his mind. In theory, he’s just a person with baggage, with years of repression and exploitation lingering behind him. But despite it, Damian’s still soft and gentle on the insides; full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Dick doesn’t know why— why he loves the caustic and uninviting parts of him too.

He wants Damian’s love all for himself, wants to see how much he can pull from him. He wants Damian to be  _his_ , and no one else’s.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about Damian like this. He wanted to spend time with him; wanted to inculcate in his brain that Damian is  _Damian_ , and his altering view of him lately is just misplaced. But, the night just left him confused. Seeing Damian undressed and sleeping so peacefully is doing weird things to his brain.  

And... he can’t seem get these thoughts out of his head— how Damian's skin would feel, what kind of noises he would make.

What would Damian think if he knew his hands were itching with the desire to touch him in places he should never think of touching? Has Damian ever been with anyone before? Would Dick be the first— be the one to corrupt him?

Dick slides his hand down his pants, telling himself it’s not because of Damian— Damian just happens to be on his mind.

His desires aren’t pure; he wants to debauch him and defile him and make him his. He wants to be the one person Damian falls apart in front of; wants to be the one who teaches him things he shouldn’t know.

Dick swallows; moves his hand a little harder. He wonders if Damian does this; wonders how he grips himself.

He squeezes himself, thinking. What makes  _Damian Wayne_  lose his mind in pleasure? What is he in to? What does he like?

Dick moans, imagines Damian beneath him and above him. Imagines Damian’s hands curious to feel him, and his own hands more certain; finding all the right spots to make him feel good.

Dick thinks of his sleeping face, his body up against him, and how much he wanted to run his hands up his shirt. And maybe Damian would’ve _let_ him.

He tries to focus on the stimulation from his hand, not his thoughts on how Damian would look loosened, not wound tight and dour; but with his eyes wild with lust; disregarding his reservations. Tries not to focus on how much he wants it; how much he hates himself for it.

He feels himself throb; his heart beating between his legs. He desperately moves his hand, his body tightening and slackening; finishing on his hand and above his pants.

He hears his phone go off and grabs it with his clean hand. The name makes him shudder; makes his body clench with regret, with repentance.

_Damian_ —asking where he went. Dick groans, locking his phone and getting up to clean himself off.

He’ll deal with it later.

* * *

 

Dick decides he needs to avoid Damian, if possible. He’s getting too close to doing something he knows he’ll hate himself for. That he _already_ hates himself for. He wants to keep his distance. He needs to.

Bruce called him over concerning an operation he’s been investigating. He wanted to say no, but Bruce asked where he’s been lately and Dick didn’t know how to explain why he’s been absent, why he doesn’t want to come.

_Sorry, I can’t stop thinking about fondling your son._

He sighs and walks down the corridor leading to the cave.

The first thing he spots when he enters is Damian, and he looks around, hoping that someone, _anyone_ else is down here, too.

No one. Just Damian. 

He’s sitting at the large table in the middle. His hair is messy, and he’s absorbed in something, resting his head on one of his knees. His eyes are narrowed and his eyebrows are clenched together. 

Dick wants to kiss him. 

He swallows the feeling in his throat and swallows the thoughts, greeting him. 

“Hey, Damian.” Damian jumps a little, then straightens himself out, and Dick doesn’t want to think it’s adorable.

He tilts his head, staring at him. “Grayson.”

Dick should go back upstairs. He should. But he sits next to him. He lays his head in his hand, leaning on the table. 

Dick watches him, trying to be subtle about it, but after a period of quiet Damian questions him.

“Why are you here?”

“B called me over. No clue where he’s at, though.” Damian shrugs.  “How are things going with you guys?”

“Tedious.”

Dick grins. “What about with you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you figured out what comes next?”

Damian shrugs again, his eyes moving down as he reads. He stands up, like he’s going to leave. 

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t come here for me,” he sounds vaguely disappointed. Dick disregards on the augury, shifting the conversation. 

“I still want to know.”

“I do not have a satisfactory answer."

"Yeah," Dick inhales, exhales. "I'm around, you know. Whenever you need anything."

Damian tuts. “You’re hardly around. I haven’t seen you for weeks.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. Besides, you’re just making conversation while you wait.”

Dick stands up too, wanting to be level with him. “That’s not true. I want to know. Why don’t you think I care?”

“I know you care.”

“Good. Because I care a lot. You are very important to me.” Dick tries to grab his arm, but Damian shirks the touch. 

“There are more important people in your life than me.”

The words make Dick freeze. Pause. Forget everything else they were talking about. Damian’s words might’ve been innocent, had he said them years ago, but now there is a layer of jealousy, of possessiveness that Dick can't look past.

He gets the feeling Damian is looking for something else. Something deeper. Something more meaningful.

Dick moves closer, pushing Damian's body up against the table. “No one is more important than you.”

Dick lifts a hand to Damian’s face, taking in the sensation of his skin under his fingers. He keeps him there, cradling his head, leaning his other hand on the table behind him. “Do you understand that?”’ His voice sounds demanding; telling Damian. Instilling it in his head.

Damian nods, slightly. Dick traces his cheekbone.

“Dami,” he says. “What do you want from me?” Dick _needs_ to know; needs the confirmation of what exactly is nagging under his words. Damian turns away, just enough.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he says, and Damian looks ambivalent. Dick holds jaw, keeping his face up. “Look at me. Say it.” 

Damian’s gets a different look in his eyes now; more severe. His eyes are searing, and it’s volatile, impassioned. Dick stares at him, feeling like he’s paralyzed by Damian’s look; Damian’s intensity keeping him in place.

“Everything,” he says, and it’s only fitting that Damian would be voracious. Dick feels like Damian took the air out of his lungs; like he somehow punched him with the words.

Dick was not prepared for this direction. It makes sense, now that he thinks back. He might just be everything to him, and it’s both flattering and frightening.

He pulls away, watches as Damian’s face turns stiff, as if he was expecting the rejection, the reaction. Dick is dying to lean in and show him just how much he’s wrong, but he doesn’t.

“You are not attached to me to the same degree,” Damian stands there, insisting. Assuming. Preparing. Dick wants to tell him, all the things he’s being thinking for weeks. For longer. But now that it’s so close, he wants to destroy it— wants to run and never look back.

“That’s not it.” He hopes his voice sounds convincing, but he’s lying and lying and can’t stop.

“I love you. Immensely,” Dick says, meeting his eyes and hating the melancholy sort of look resting there. He caresses his hair on the side of his head, then shies away. His hands seem to move on their own.

Bruce shows up right as they disconnect, and Dick doesn’t look back at Damian.

 

* * *

 

It’s a cloudy night, and the stars are concealed behind the clouds. The moon peeks out occasionally, lighting up the city below.

Damian looks at the sky briefly, then stares at Dick next to him. They just wrapped up the case they were investigating, effortlessly. 

Damian thinks Dick looks comfortable up here, on a high building in a quiet part of Gotham.

It’s the ideal time to speak with him. There are no distractions and no escape routes. Dick cannot avoid him up here. 

“Nightwing,” he starts.

“Yeah?” He steps closer, standing directly in front of him. He tries to meet his eyes through the lenses. 

“You’re not a coward,” he says.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Richard.”

“Names—”

“Richard,” he says, more stern. “You are evading.”

“Evading what exactly?” Damian reaches up, traces his mask. Dick looks worried now that they’re touching; afraid of what’s coming.

“Me.”

“You?”

“You are avoiding me.”

“No,” he says, and it’s a lie. “My life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Evading again.” He removes his hand, frustrated. 

“Maybe you’re wrong,” he claims, understanding the meaning behind Damian’s words but not willing to acknowledge it. “You’re misinterpreting.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I am.”

“You asked me,” Damian can hear Dick’s next answer—  _that was different._  “It’s my turn to query, is it not?”

“Damian…”

“Richard,” he copies. “What do you desire?”

“What I desire is unimportant.”

“It’s important to me.” Dick doesn’t answer. Damian continues. “You think I need to be protected. Maybe when I was younger, that is what I required. But now…” He exhales. “I am no longer a child.”

“I know,” Dick says. He knows that better than anyone. He can’t stop thinking about it.

Damian leans against a panel on the roof. “You always do whats you think is best for me… for everyone. You constantly sacrifice yourself, thinking that your needs hold the least amount of significance.” Damian’s voice is stern. “I disagree,” he says, crossing his arms.

Dick doesn’t speak, but he moves closer, standing in front of him.

“Your compliancy can only get you so far,  _Grayson_.”  

Dick is stunned; Damian’s perceptiveness stings in a marvelous way. And the snarky use of his last name paired with his abrasive nature somehow makes Dick want him more. He says his name like it’s an insult, and it makes him _excited_.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. What do you want?”

“What if I said you?” he asks, not expecting the reaction. Damian loses his assertiveness, faltering as his his face tinges a deep, dark color. Dick doesn’t stop— can’t now that he’s being honest. 

“What if I said that you’re the only thing that’s been on my mind for months? What if I said I’ve been trying to decipher your feelings so I feel a little less bad about it? What if I said I want you so bad I can hardly think of anything else?”

“That’s…” He sounds like he’s lost his nerve, his oxygen. “That’s not what you want to say,” Damian warns him.

“You don’t like that answer? Even though you wanted to know?” Dick grabs his throat, holding him there, forcing him to look at him when he says it. “You asked and I’m telling.” 

“What I want...” Dick pauses, breathing. “I want to hurt you. Break you. Kiss you and touch you and fuck you and never stop,” he inhales, maybe trying to remember how. "I want to do things I’ve never even thought about before.” He tightens his hold around his neck, lining their lips up, though he doesn’t move closer.

Damian’s throat beneath his hand feels like whatever grasp he had—whatever lid he had bottling up his emotions, keeping them compact and from pooling over—he’s losing. 

Dick does what he wants. Squeezes harder. Hears the way Damian groans; feels the vibration under his fingertips.

He grips his hair. Pulls it. Yanks his head back. Holds him there and forces him to simmer inside the meaning of his words. Forces him to stay. Forces him to face it.

Forces him to see; to comprehend just what he’s asking for. 

He breathes; doing it for the both of them. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted something this much.”

Damian’s not a coward, either. He looks opposite of the way Dick expected— not like he’s unaware what he was stumbling into— but that he was hoping for this. Wanting it just as bad; wanting it more.

“If you tell me that…” Damian places his hand over Dick’s on his throat. “It will be hard to control myself.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he lifts his head by his chin, pulling him closer. “Maybe I want you to discard your restraint. Just for me.” He wants to tear Damian open at the seams, and catch whatever comes out. He doesn’t know how he went from wanting to protect him to wanting to destroy him.

“Show me,” Damian dares, and Dick leans in. Their lips touch, just a ghost of the feeling and—

The sound of their comms. Dick pulls away swiftly, turning his head. “Nightwing. Robin.”

“Batman,” Dick answers. Damian doesn’t trust his voice.

“Are you finished over there?” Damian steps away from the wall, noticing that Dick won’t look at him anymore. He tries to reduce the heat in his face and glares at him, even though he cannot see it. 

He taps on his earpiece. “Yes, father.”

 

* * *

 

Damian makes his way to Dick’s apartment that weekend, set on getting an answer. He can’t stop thinking about his words and the way his lips felt, barely touching his. This doesn’t feel like a desire, a fleeting want anymore. Damian  _needs_ him. 

Dick’s reclining on his couch, aiming to coerce the thoughts away that seem so inescapable, that seem to want to settle there. 

He sighs. 

He’s interrupted by a sound, and he turns his head to see Damian crawling through the window. 

“I have a door.” Damian doesn’t answer. Instead he sits right next to him, shifting his body in his direction. 

“Dami—” he attempts, but Damian cuts him off, relocating above him. He sits on one of his legs, looking furious.

“You piss me off,” he sneers.

“I tend to have that affect,” he jokes, but Damian doesn’t react at all. 

“You can't tell me _that_ and then—”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Dick turns his head, trying to lean away. “Listen, you don’t want to get into this with me.”

“Is that what you want to say or what you think you should?” Dick hates the way he always has to be _right_. He huffs, staying silent for a moment. 

Damian gets annoyed, shoving towards him and shifting Dick’s body to lay beneath him. He places his hands on his chest, bending over him. He stares at him, calculating, but there’s something else in his eyes, something Dick can’t quite read.

“Tell me you didn’t mean what you said,” he breathes. “Tell me to leave you alone and I will.” Dick doesn’t say anything, and Damian leans in, cautiously nudging their mouths together. It’s soft at first, just light contact, just the sensation. Damian pushes against him harder; kissing him vicious and angry and frustrated. He bites his lower lip and pulls away, fluttering his eyes open then back closed, leaning in again. It’s clumsy and desperate, and Dick kisses him back, feeling Damian follow his lead.

Dick growls, lifting him up and flipping them over. He runs his hands up his thighs, pulling away.

“Why me?” Dick mutters against his mouth, kissing him again. 

“There could never be anyone else.” He pauses, clutching the side of his face. “You should know by now.” Blood rushes under his cheeks, and he pays no attention to the heat, focusing on Dick. “I am very fond of you,” he says, slightly timid, and Dick thinks he’s in way too deep to try digging himself out now.

“Well, so am I,” he smiles. “Fond,” he shoves his head into the space between his neck and shoulder, placing his mouth there. 

Damian runs his hands up under the back of his shirt, feeling the skin. He pushes his fingertips into it; wants to really feel it; wants to record the sensation in his mind and secure it there. Dick removes his shirt and mirrors Damian, sliding his hands up his and doing the same.

“Damian,” he exhales, watching his hands move up the area of his abdomen. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, seeing the way he’s hard already, bulging in his underwear.

“You are certain,” he removes his hands, hesitant; waiting for Damian’s confirmation. 

Damian surprises him instead, eagerly moving his hand down and cupping his groin. “Do you want to know how long I’ve wanted this?” It’s a dare. Maybe a challenge.

Dick waits, and Damian waits too. Their only movement is Damian’s hand squeezing around his cock.

“How long?” he yields, and his voice is quaking. 

Damian leans in, placing his lips right along his ear. “I can’t recall when I ever didn’t.”

Dick feels himself throb and wonders if Damian can feel it too. He hastily gets his fingers around his waistband and tugs off his pants.

He grabs his ankles, slowly sliding his hands higher and higher, touching him everywhere he can reach.

He kisses his throat right where his heartbeat is and can feel the way its thumping—rapidly. He kisses the span of his collarbone, biting down at the end, running his tongue down his body, tasting his scars and flesh. He plants a kiss over his briefs, sucking where the material is damp, making it damper. 

“You’re pretty,” he muffles against him, and Damian makes faint noise, shifting around. Dick traces the band of his underwear, steadily pushing them down, captivated as they slide lower and lower and disappear somewhere in the room.

He looks back up at Damian, moving higher to kiss him. He kisses back down the length his body; sucking on his neck, leaving imbrues of blood under the surface. He traces the edges of his muscles with his tongue.

He hoists Damian higher by his lower back, bringing his body closer to his mouth. He grabs his thighs, spreading his legs around his head, stroking and clutching the thickest part.

He looks at him, really looks; takes in the sight of Damian’s cock, swelling and waiting for him.

“Even your cock is pretty, Dami,” he mumbles, holding his legs as he licks the side of his hardness. Damian makes a tortured sound, and maybe this is some sort of torture; a superior kind. He buries one of his hands in Dick’s hair, his fingers twitching around it.

Dick slithers his tongue under his foreskin, savoring his distinct taste. He grabs his knee, slowly caressing up his leg, positioning his hand to grasp his cock.

He strokes him, his hand gradually moving down, marveling as a drop oozes out and flows down the side. Damian gasps, watching Dick, and he doesn’t know what turns him on more; the feeling or the person generating it.

Dick clutches the side of his leg, sucking the head into his mouth. He lowers his mouth, swallowing him down more and more until he meets his hand. He lifts his head and lowers it again, moving at a steady pace. Damian grips the armrest, squirming.

Dick’s eyes glint up at him and he pulls off, worming his tongue down his shaft, circling down to his balls. He rolls them around over his lips, massaging them, and Damian makes a breathy sound, riding up the couch. 

Dick grunts, gripping his legs tighter, pressing him closer to stop his wiggling. He slides his tongue lower, running it along the skin, teasing over the hole. He ascends back to his balls, lightly sucking on them, peering up at Damian as he struggles against the stimulation.

Dick slides his tongue back down to his ass, nudging the opening. He outlines it with his tongue, leisurely sliding inside his body. He coils his tongue and grips his ass, fucking Damian with his mouth.

Damian tightens his hand in his hair, squeezing his legs around his head and making noises Dick knows he’ll never be able to get out of his head. 

He withdraws, running his tongue back up along his cock, sucking him down again. Damian jerks, and Dick forces him closer, swallowing him down as deep as he can.

“Grays…” his voice breaks. “G-Grayson.” He makes a series of sweet, hushed sounds, biting on his lower lip. He tugs on his hair, warning him, but Dick sucks him down farther, feeling Damian pulse around his mouth as he starts to cum.

He writhes; shaking and whining as he tries to pull away from the sensation.

Dick seizes him, not letting him escape. His throat moves as he swallows, and he pulls off, his eyes planted on Damian’s separated lips, watching the noises exit. 

Dick runs his tongue over his mouth, taking in his flavor, finding that he likes it— or maybe it’s just who he knows it belongs to. He caresses his fingers back up Damian’s body, holding his waist.

Damian grunts, placing a hand over his face.

Dick watches him. He absorbs the sight of this winsome human who’s all his. He sits up, lifting Damian’s legs and placing them in his lap. Damian lays there for a moment, catching his breath, and Dick thinks he has to do the same, overwhelmed by what Damian just allowed him to do. 

Without warning, Damian surges up, shifting so he’s straddling him. He impatiently undoes his pants, snaking a hand down and grasping him. He sucks on Dick’s lips and tongue and he bites down, poking his teeth into him like he’s trying to devour him. It’s rough and it’s needy and it’s completely breathtaking. Damian tips away, his eyes still closed. He opens them and curls his fingers around his nape, fixing his eyes on Dick's.

“Fuck,” he moans, like he’s the one being touched. “Richard,” he tenses his hand. His eyes are half lidded, and his next words are definite. 

“Take me,” and he reaches down for Dick’s hand. He lifts it to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, his scarlet cheeks hollowing. Dick reclines his head back, moaning at both the insinuation and the contact. Dick shoves fingers farther into his mouth, holding his head with his other hand, keeping him there.

He removes his hand from Damian's mouth and embraces him, lowering his fingers. Dick pokes at his entrance and feels the way he's still a little wet from his tongue. He yanks Damian closer for a kiss. 

He enters him, attempts to do it gently and proficiently, but Damian feels like he’s on fire inside, and he doesn’t even shift away, just trusts him to do it right.

Damian removes his hand from his crotch, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and Dick prods into him further, adding another finger. Damian shoves his face into the side of his neck, and his face is warm against his skin. Dick twists his fingers, rubbing deeper and harder as Damian leaves a series of soft kisses on his throat. Dick feels when it starts to change— he tilts his fingers just right— and Damian’s making a broken sound against his throat, jostling.

Dick grabs his hip and shoves him down toward it, kneading the same spot again. Damian shudders and bites down on his neck, leaving an indent of his teeth. “Feel good?” 

“Yes,” he sighs, and Dick can feel the word against him as he sucks on the spot he sunk his teeth into. Damian hugs him, holding his arms around his shoulders, then leans away, looking into his eyes. He holds his hair, kissing him, and Dick can taste the sounds he makes into his mouth; loving the way they feel— loving the way he’s being so affectionate and absolute. 

Damian tilts away, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers around his hair.  

“Dick,” he whines, using a name he never calls him. “Yes." Dick stills his fingers, keeping them inside him as he looks down at Damian’s cock, glistening over the top. He wishes he had more hands so he could touch Damian everywhere, all at once.

He rubs his fingers inside him again, moving his hand from his hip to his cock. He ghosts his fingers over it, and he sees Damian clench his jaw, amazed at how much he wants it already. _Again._

He wraps his hand around his cock, squeezing down and tightening his fist around the base. “God,” Dick groans. Damian whimpers, his voice turning into a high noise, squirming above him. Dick can’t believe the control he’s allowed; the way Damian is accepting and soaking up whatever he gives. “You’re driving me crazy." Dick swears he's losing his mind.

Dick slowly removes his fingers from him, and Damian’s leaning down and tugging his pants lower and off. He bends down, until his back is perfectly arched, his head is moving toward his cock. He kisses the tip and circles his tongue around it, then he kisses and glides his tongue down the sides. Not swallowing him down, he just places his mouth around him, tasting.

Damian pulls off, and there's something loving and obscene in the way he looks reluctant; like he doesn’t want to move away.

“I like it.” Damian's voice is breathy and wobbly and almost undistinguishable. “The way you taste. Good. Everywhere,” he stumbles through the sentence, too dazed and aroused to compose himself. Dick groans into his mouth, shoving Damian back up toward him, wanting to taste him for proof.

Damian sits back over him and grips him again, leaving Dick speechless as he aligns his cock, slowly pushing him in.

“Shit, Dami,” he grunts, unable to stop his hands from curling around his hips on each side. Damian moves up slowly, then back down faster— then he’s riding him— bouncing and crying for it. 

Dick assists his movement with his hands, but he swears Damian’s moving faster than he can.

He grips his hips hard, compelling him to move slower, and Damian rolls his hips, reducing his movement. Dick cups the side of his face and holds their heads together, stealing a kiss. 

“Do you know,” he pants. “Do you even know how special you are?” He rubs his fingers over his mouth, and back through his hair. He keeps him there, cradling his head and maneuvering him to shift his body with his. 

Damian lifts himself and grinds back down, shifting his hips and twitching. It’s deeper and sedated, and he grabs onto Dick’s shoulders, his hands reaching up into his hair. 

Dick moves his hands down his body lightly, caressing him as they descend into ecstasy together. They breathe and moan against each others mouths; submerged in this moment—intimately investigating these sides of each other; reveling in the significance. 

Damian’s movements get more unhinged, more desperate. Lifting and curving his body, led by Dick’s hands, he starts to sob; moaning and whining and circling his hips.

Damian tenses—trembling as he spurts over both their stomachs, his lips parting to let out a loud, unfiltered sound. Dick keeps grinding into him, reaching his climax as Damian loses himself above him. 

“Wow,” Dick lets it slip; doesn’t even have the words. Damian slumps against him, resting his head against his neck. 

“Mmm…” He kisses the side of Dick’s throat, kissing up to his face. He nuzzles their cheeks together and joins their mouths.

“I belong to you,” Damian tells him, his eyes sparkling. And Dick knows he does, too. 

* * *

 

Hours pass and Damian’s laying on his stomach, his eyes shut, his head facing Dick. 

Dick traces the scars on his back with his fingers. He leans in a kisses the tip of Damian’s nose, and his eyes open, looking flustered.

Dick shifts on the bed, kissing down the length of his back, feeling the distinct tissue of his cicatrix.

Damian doesn’t move; allows him.

“Dami.” Dick shifts to lay down next to him. He traces the bone on his shoulder.

Damian makes a mellow sound as his answer.

“What if…” He removes his hand. “What if you stayed here with me?” Damian’s eyes open, and he gapes at him. “We could be… something.”

“Something?” Damian simpers. He rises onto his arms and twists around, collapsing on his back.

“You know,” Dick smiles. He leans above him, their faces parallel. “Partners.” He finds a better term. “Lovers.”

“Lovers?” Damian teases, secretly liking the way it sounds.

“Maybe.” He grins. “I just mean… we can be whatever we want.”

“Hm. I’ll have to think about it.” Dick runs his hand up his hair, submerging his fingers in it. He tugs on it impishly.

“Will you?”

Damian stares at him, and it’s unbelievably soft. He finds Dick’s hand on the bed and winds their fingers together.

“No,” and he smiles. And it’s rare. And it’s beautiful. “Don’t you remember?” He pauses, placing his other hand around his arm, holding onto him.

“Forever.”


End file.
